Fade to Black
by Cariganna
Summary: ONE SHOT! After the conclusion of the final war, Hermione distances herself from the world she once loved. R&R Please!


Fade to Black

Hermione sat in the back of a Muggle pub and downed half her third drink. The bitter taste of the whisky no longer stung her throat. Reaching into her arm pocket she slid her wand out and fingered it under the table, making sure to be circumspect. Her eyes drifted to the table across from her. Three teenagers sat ordering their first round. _Probably just of drinking age and trying it out_, she thought. The only girl among the trio flicked back her long brown hair and caught Hermione's scrutinizing eye. Giving a half-smile, the girl nodded in her direction. Hermione did not acknowledge the nod. She simply lowered her head and stared through her bushy mane.

There was something about the girl though, that caught her attention. Perhaps it was the red and gold sweater she wore, reminiscent of her Gryffindor days. Hogwarts was long gone though. One of the many fatalities in the war against Voldemort. _Needless, stupid deaths!_ Her mind raged.

She allowed her mind to drift and it fell back on the wizarding world. What was left of the place once so magical to her. It was a well-beaten path and her mind leapt from one guilty emotion to the next. _Parvati could have been saved if only…If I hadn't told Neville, then maybe…And Ron…if only…I could've…_Her throat tightened threateningly and she took a swig of her drink, wishing she could still pretend it was the taste making her eyes water.

The waiter brought drinks to the trio and the dark-haired boy turned for a split second in Hermione's direction. He had glasses.

He didn't really look like Harry at all. True he was tall, dark-haired, bespectacled, and grinning (a trait she still placed firmly with Harry, though it had been almost a year since she had seen him and longer still since he had smiled), but no trademark scar, or red-haired shadow, no friendly rolling of the eyes, no warmth. Not when compared to Harry.

Most of the survivors, if you could call them that, never smiled. The only one that was still as chipper was Hagrid, but he had lost most of his memory from a powerful Obliviate curse. _But that we were all so lucky,_ thought Hermione wryly, running her fingers over the tip of her wand.

She had been relatively lucky though. Her family had remained safe tucked away in the Muggle world. Her closest friend was alive, if not entirely _there_, and her boyfriend…well, Ron had gone fairly painlessly as deaths go. Not like the twins. Or Ginny. Poor, poor Ginny.

The black-haired boy of the trio stood up suddenly and excused himself to the loo. The other boy scooted closer to the girl.

And suddenly Hermione was angry. Furious, even. How dare this little girl be happy, when she, Hermione Granger, top of her class by a mile-post, sat sad, drunk, and jealous in the back of a rather skuzzy bar? How dare she be hit on when the only person that knew Hermione existed was the female bartender filtering drinks to her every half-hour? How dare she be so god-damned radiant?

As quickly as her anger came, it left her, and in its absence came the emptiness, the emptiness she had come to hate more than even the pain. She caught the wisps of a song playing softly in the background: "Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive." Hermione snorted into her drink.

The dark-haired boy came back and the two distanced themselves. Hermione caressed her wand, noting the cool wood beneath her fingertips.

Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind… why? Why didn't she just leave it all behind? Quit? Part of her mind raged that this was a cowardly thing to do. Gryffindor's were brave; they didn't run. But the other part of her mind screamed that it wasn't so wrong to run from a world that had brought her nothing but pain and blood, sorrow and death. It wasn't so wrong to want some measure of security. Was it?

The trio stood and left the bar.

Hermione's wand felt heavy in her hand. Angrily she grabbed it, and with a vicious yank, snapped it cleanly in two. Standing, she left a 50-pound bill on her table and followed the trio out. The streetlight briefly illuminated her face as she walked the two blocks to her flat. A shining tear rolled down her face as she faded back into the night.


End file.
